A middle-aged man’s embarrassment is having no money in his pocket!
What saved Old Wen from his predicament wasn’t the wealthy Deng Shangwei nearby, but Wen Ying. Wen Ying didn’t come to pay his bill, but she was accomplished. Not only was her book well-written, she was winning the lawsuit, and Youth Idol was riding the wave of recent news coverage. The second batch of books, reprinted and distributed to Chengdu’s bookstores, was still selling out.
Wen Dongrong wanted to buy 30 books, and the bookstore had them, but fulfilling his order would leave other queued customers empty-handed.
The clerk curtly told Old Wen that each customer was limited to three books!
Wen Dongrong, puffing up with his leadership airs, expressed dissatisfaction, This is a stock issue with the bookstore.
Deng Shangwei guessed his brother-in-law was buying so many to give away. Since Wen Dongrong didn’t push Deng Shangwei to face the firing squad alone, Deng Shangwei, grateful for his conscience, pulled Old Wen aside, I bought quite a few before, want me to share some with you?
Curious about Deng Shangwei’s “quite a few,” Wen Dongrong asked how many. Deng Shangwei, embarrassed, said, I bought 100, don’t tell Little Ying.
Buying so many had ulterior motives.
Unlike Wen Dongrong, who bought them to gift, Deng Shangwei’s social circle, except for a few like Qin Xianming who read, was full of bosses like Mr. Wang who didn’t. Why would Deng Shangwei give books to friends who don’t read or to relatives, which would expose Wen Ying?
Of the books Deng Shangwei bought, he only gave some to company employees, like Sister Fang, who had teenage kids, hoping to cultivate real readers for Wen Ying.
The rest were piled up at his company.
He’d initially bought 100 to boost Wen Ying’s sales.
If the book flopped on its first day, wouldn’t that crush her confidence?
But now, it seemed Wen Ying didn’t need his small sales boost.
Wen Dongrong didn’t refuse the offered books but was curious, If you weren’t giving them to me today, what were you going to do with all those books, let them gather dust at the company?
Deng Shangwei hemmed and hawed, reluctant to say, which fully piqued Wen Dongrong’s curiosity, and he pressed for answers.
I was thinking, after the school term starts, I’d go back to my hometown and donate these books, along with others, to the school there.
Reading was indeed valuable.
Deng Shangwei had deeply felt this in the past year.
The family atmosphere had transformed, not just improving the couple’s bond with their kids, but even the young nanny, Deng Yaomei, who’d worked for the Dengs for years, gained the courage to step out of her comfort zone through learning.
Deng Shangwei thought Youth Idol was a great book, suitable for adult parents and especially for teens in their rebellious years.
But the book’s price wasn’t cheap, 32 yuan was pocket money for city kids but might be a week’s living expenses for rural students.
How could more people access this book?
Deng Shangwei thought of donating books.
Rural middle school libraries updated slowly, most books donated, varying in condition and type, but bestsellers like this were unlikely to appear there.
If donating, Deng Shangwei wanted to pick other books too, like this year’s hot title, Shh, Little Secret, which city kids nearly all had, but rural schools likely didn’t. Beyond Youth Idol and Shh, Little Secret, he wasn’t confident about what to donate or avoid.
Donating was well-intentioned, but giving bad books could mislead kids.
Deng Shangwei hadn’t even told his wife, Chen Li, about this plan. The only person he could consult was probably Qin Xianming.
Under Wen Dongrong’s probing, Deng Shangwei revealed his plan.
Wen Dongrong always looked down on his business success, so Deng Shangwei feared he’d think he was showing off.
Unexpectedly, Wen Dongrong fell silent.
The lavish lunch was Wen Dongrong’s revenge spending.
Now, hearing Deng Shangwei’s plan to donate books, the big meal sat uncomfortably in Wen Dongrong’s stomach.
A simple meal would’ve done, people don’t need feasts to live. Deng Shangwei was thinking of giving back to his hometown, while Wen Dongrong, a farm boy who made it to the city, hadn’t reached that level of awareness.
To donate money for books, Wen Dongrong had none now.
Wen Ying, the bestselling author, was the richest in the family, but he couldn’t force her to fund books for Deng Shangwei’s rural school donation.
What could Wen Dongrong do?
He did know some “friends” who, if he asked, would pitch in.
If the workplace led the effort, rallying local wealthy business owners, the impact would far surpass Deng Shangwei’s solo act.
Wen Dongrong, seasoned in bureaucracy, could pull it off flawlessly.
It’d even earn him praise, fame, and a chance to crush Old Li, so many benefits. Yet, in that moment, he hesitated.
He suspected the big lunch had muddled his brain!
Forget it, whether to do it or not could wait. For now, there was something he could do.
Since his youth, Wen Dongrong had kept up with reading and newspapers. His writing skills weren’t innate but honed over time.
Over the years, as he aged, he’d picked up some bureaucratic bad habits, but never dropped his reading habit.
Deng Shangwei didn’t know what books to donate, but Wen Dongrong did!
He started picking books right there in the bookstore.
One picked, the other jotted down notes. The bookstore clerk, learning their purpose, shed her jaded attitude and recommended plenty of teen-friendly reads.
Midway, Wen Ying called to nudge them, but Wen Dongrong brushed her off, Your uncle and I have urgent business. Hang out at the mall, we’ll come over soon.
He hung up without further explanation.
Wen Ying was baffled.
What could be more urgent than confessing to Manager Chen?
They’d rushed her over, and now they weren’t in a hurry?
If they delayed and Du Li got to Chen Ru first, what then?!
Wen Ying waited at the mall until past four when Wen Dongrong and Deng Shangwei finally showed up.
Neither mentioned the bookstore book-picking. Wen Dongrong cleared his throat, Shangwei, you tell her.
Their agreed plan was to play the pity card.
When you see your mum, don’t say anything else, just wail as loud and miserably as you can, say you’ve been bullied! If needed, cling to her leg and cry…
Two grown men, after all that plotting, came up with this idea.
Wen Ying’s face burned.
At her age, she couldn’t cling to Manager Chen’s leg and wail for forgiveness!
Even if Chen Ru was a ticking atomic bomb, Wen Ying couldn’t do it. In the face of dignity, her mum’s wrath was nothing!
